but away.

dreamed of a really dark old west. shoot out in a saloon. but all of the characters were anthropomorphic dogs, like mcgruff the crime dog. there was a character named Sergio Rosa, but the last name pronounced Rasa (tabula rasa).

homer simpson with a skinned pig face, but still in the same cartoon style. homer simpson with his face removed, just showing his skull and bald head.

guilded and atrophied fingers.

in a deep, deep thought wheel was intensely inspired to start reading about the french revolution. i don't remember a thing about it, but it seems to be one of the most influential and important pieces of the history of current man.

still writing the same short story from two weeks ago. it's a record.

a lot of music coming down the line to be interested in. haven't been this excited about new artists in a long time. could be finally opening up my mind again or could just be an incredibly satisfying end of an otherwise bleak year. maybe my heart isn't encased in gravel and gear anymore.

---

we thought we found the anatomy of a whole new person
disfigured and charred and praying in a pile of ash
so we dissected it and found a city and we dissected the city
until we found a single violin
wrapped in string made from shaved deer bone and wax.
the violin wouldn't play and the city had no books and the
dead have no voice so we buried in ash what had been buried
in ash.

of one way or another.

caffeine dreams. like where the thoughts you're thinking won't word wrap. where they won't go to the next line. they shove each other to the end of the margin and start clustering up and rearranging themselves to fit. like a train crash.

dreams of large bugs squeezing behind the bed. trying over and over to get them before they're out of sight.

deported.

no dreams.
trying to figure out what goes wrong that loops back into me to zero out how you can feel.
not that it sticks.

dreams of swarms of bees. looking out the screen door, two to five bees hovering around each person, stinging. some people's faces turning purple and fat. little girl laying down in turtle position right outside the door, so I yell as hard as I can at the bees and it weakens them and I bring the girl inside. my "bedroom" is a full house with tons of people hanging out, watching tv, socializing.

homer Simpson is there with a red beard.

it isn't gray if it's invisible.

i've not written in this blog for months. and it's mostly because i felt nothing until i felt some of the darkest energy i've experienced in my life. this real golden, bronze, copper void. horrible pulling and a wilting gravity. even talking to friends about it felt like i was exaggerating. i came out of it a bit. and then came out of it completely.

if i revisit it, i'd love to be able to share more on it. though it seemed strange to suddenly start throwing a blog up about how depressed and meaningless everything was feeling as the first shot out of the cannon in a long time. especially when i feel like so many of the sentiments here seem to be at the very least straightforward creative work.

though i think the lack of creativity contributed to the awfulness of it. the feeling of being trapped under ice. terrible movie reference here, but it reminded me a bit of the scene from the ewok movie where the kid is, yeah, trapped under the ice.

i do want to say that talking to a really close friend who was supremely in tune with the kinds of ideas i was experiencing and just with myself as a whole helped in a major way. really took me down a different path i didn't think i'd be able to get down, especially as easily as i thought i would. i had to address the problem and move on. that was it. that's always it. this simple concept that you don't think applies to you. right now i'm finding a wild alluring power in the mantra that "i have everything that i need to be happy and peaceful and alive." it feels a bit derived from a lot of things i've seen posted in memes all over the internet which is BASICALLY the modern scrolls of buddhism. but really. that concept is something that's is wildly empowering in a very basic and direct way. that's the kind of advice and instruction that my friend gave over to me and it was valuable. really a change in the path i was going down. enriched every day for me.

--

the other night, i had one of the most vivid and colorful dreams i've had in a while. i don't know if it's that i've had disturbed sleep or just haven't been spending a lot of time in thought or what the issue is. but i know i caught an extremely deep sleep and allowed myself to be set adrift in it. the dream wasn't all that incredible, mostly just the feeling of clearly being in a dream and not needing to wake up and not having a countdown to waking up. i got past the film of there being a clear divide between dreaming in a sleeping body and just allowing thought to engulf your entire person.

the dream centered around this enormous mosquito type creature with spindly legs and all, barely any body, but i knew that it was colored like a lady bug. red carapace, black highlights or dots. flecks of white. and i would see it landed on a flight of stairs or the edge of a lake or in other arenas i'd find myself in. and i would go over to try to catch it with a bag or a net. and as i'd approach, slowly, so as not to kill it or startle it, i would watch it pull its proboscis out of another insect. the most memorable being this very large wasp. and it would pull this long tongue out of its back or its head and the other insect would almost graciously unfurl its body that had been hidden under the body of that mosquito and fly away. i think every time i saw it, i didn't catch how the rest of that scene would pan out because a massive golden glow would encompass the whole 'screen' and i wouldn't be able to watch more and we'd transition to some other level of the dream. but that's a scene that i remember witnessing time and again.

but i remember the feeling of dreaming being so free. there was an ease of breathing that i haven't felt in a long time, within dreams. a looseness. a freedom of clear thought. just letting the dream experience itself. absolutely phenomenal, almost drug like.

you get sent in such directions.

I had a dream last night that I had gone abroad to another country that was a strange blend of both Africa and southeast Asia. also possibly more mountainous rural areas of China. a completely freeing experience.

there was a lower area where the schools and classes were. the time I was spending there was unrelated to those schools, but I had access to the facilities including the knowledge there, I guess you could say. I wasn't in class, but I was learning from these computer consoles within cubicles. I guess it was kind of like reading the internet. down there felt like a city built of a college campus. lots of buildings with specific purpose, and always working. you go there when you're not sleeping or eating to work or learn. you're farming or reading or teaching or building or researching. twenty four seven this is happening.

just across this massive river is an upper level up on a mountain. and up there is a more village type of atmosphere. huts, trees, wicker baskets filled with fruits. dirt roads. very fresh rain, wet rainforest experience. and you'd sleep inside a hut built by using the jungle and forest around you. and within that structure, they would deem it acceptable or not to then furnish the inside with higher quality furniture or even rooms one you put in enough work to make it livable on your own.

after working one day on campus, I followed friends back to the boat that brought us back to the village half and we rode the boat across and didn't speak. the water was calm, it was hot weather but with a light cool breeze. the sun was setting creating this orange horizon, and everything looked like it was through an Instagram filter.

truly felt peaceful. 'going home'. arrived back at the island and walked up this very steep hill to get to the actual village. met a friend and we ate raw eggs out of a cup or out of actual egg shells. we were laughing about something, really relaxed. it was late and it felt like we'd just worked for a full day doing intense labor. really felt like we had arrived home and everything was safe and there was no countdown to tomorrow, just resting up. we drifted off to sleep, so heavily.

woke up looking out into the jungle or forest and saw the tops of mountains in front of a rich summer evening blue. lots of green leaves. the village floor like cool soil you buy at the hardware store. not rushing, but feeling ready to go to the other island. wearing light blue shorts and a white t shirt, and that's our uniform.

to go back to the other island, we have to walk to the edge of the water and jump off this cliff into the river and swim across. looking out, there are others swimming across, some boats coming back and forth. feeling fear at first, but almost accepting death or failure or danger to stay within this restful, peaceful, rewarding cycle. dive in and start swimming across, can't wait to get there..   

mix xxiv. i know my redeemer lives (REVISED)

mix xxiv. i know my redeemer lives (REVISED)

the spotify playlist.

haim – falling I can only tell how old this mix was supposed to be by the date that I initially downloaded this track. and this might even be something of a late tell. but the creation of this file is found on the fourth of june of 2013. that’s how long it’s been that I’ve wanted to share this with you guys. and now, there they go, haim shows up in the top lists of a lot of the major music news outlets. the whole record is catchy as all hell, and gives that 80s vibe about it without ever resorting to any of those characteristic keyboards or samples of the time. it’s all just a solid, cyclic, exuberant hook, over and again. this just makes you feel awesome. I remember getting to work after this coming on and needing to completely replace the store audio with this song. maybe twice. what is this song even about? falling or something? into the fire feeling higher than the truth? COOL. LET’S DANCE.

letlive. – that fear fever I feel like letlive. is that perfect band to get you OFF. not in the sexual sense, where you’re physically orgasming. really, no, please. I’m not even going to give you a maybe on that one. but I feel like they’re all in and it’s very hard not to be all in when they’re throwing down. I feel like there’s something about what they’re doing here that gives them an element to ME at least of what the punk sound did to people before there was anything guttural and raw like that. it’s stripped down and kinetic but focused enough that it can only fit down one pipe, one channel, one tunnel directly to your face but there’s so much going on at once that you are having your eyes dart around in REM-like motions to be able to catch everything. clockwork orange film strips for your aurals. the production on this one is a little weird, a little low budget it feels? but get in it, surround yourself by it. flip tables. throw molotovs.

misery signals – shadows and depth heavy as shit, like handfuls of that black soil you’d use to plant trees or new landscape projects. so much denser and thicker and weighty than what you thought you were holding. the heft doesn’t match the volume. but then there are those wood grain textures in the background and in the in betweens. that’s what this band has always been for me. it’s the band that everyone has basketball shorts for and the fitteds and whatever the mosh kids where nowadays, but there’s something about all of it at once that doesn’t seem possible to reduce down to a two step or a mosh. when I saw them as one of the last things I did in NYC before coming down here to the swerve, even during the breakdowns, kids just stare at them and nod their head like they’re receiving some outerworldy transmission that is promoting rhythm through understanding. to wield the vastness that they incorporate their songs is something that I endlessly respect. they want to punch you down through a granite floor but into a dust that floats through the atmosphere and lands out on one of saturn’s moons. I’m down, they sound rad.

citizen – drawn out whereas a band like this is that band that plays the VFW to all of their friends that they’ve never met and make eye contact and donate the microphone to the crowd through the choruses and the hooks so that everyone can be the band can be the voice and can be the message. there isn’t much to the lyrics in this song personally, but there’s a flashback here to holding the shoulders of kids I didn’t know who drove the same streets to get here to celebrate the movement and the songs and the band and the record and the song. the faces that light up when they finally play the song that “they better play”. it’s joy. it’s that live performance euphoria that can’t be replaced. it’s small and singular and important. this song embodies it for me. air drumming on this one is furious, too. love that bass line too. asics. new balance. saucony. feel wild.

rookie town – valley lily there are bands like this that are derivative of the above movement. and they never really sound like their recordings when they play those little venues. and they’re playing to such small crowds of people who can only make out what the songs really sound like because they received the demo or streamed it on sound cloud and know the first few notes. but they play it too fast and they play it so energetically and frantically that it barely sounds the same. “I’M STILL AS STRONG AS I EVER WAS” is such a powerful thing to scream amidst the chaos that the whole song represents. it’s a beautiful thing to scream into any open space. it’s an absence of desperation. it’s an affirmation. but there are moments like that weird bridge in the middle that ONLY belong in the little bars and the wooden VFWs and never make it in the transition outside of that. but in those tableaus, they are the prism through which ONLY that light can shine.

bear vs. shark – bloodgiver I’m endlessly happy that I received an equal visions record sampler back at some warped tour that I’ve since forgotten. from the days when I was really into coheed and cambria’s first record and the second one was still kind of relevant to me and before I thought it was possible the third one could possibly lose me. because ON that sampler was the song by this band called ‘ma jolie’ that opened my eyes to them forever. and there’s that midwestern 90s vibe to them a la braid, but that same era post-hardcore nonchalance that at the drive-in brought that was a blend that grew deep into my bloodstream. seeing them live was dangerous. I love how misleading the lack of anything obvious going on in this song is. it shifts and folds and spreads like a flock of birds or a school of fish. one unit acting in multiple minds.

moneen – accidents are on purpose to open, yes. this is a cover. but not so much a cover as it is a reimagining. so if you’ve not heard the alexisonfire version of this track, it may make it more (or less) enjoyable based on your knowledge of that track. but this one is way slower, way less vicious, though all the elements are still there. it’s nothing like george’s wildcat, throat tearing scream. this is a song completely deconstructed and reassembled after years of water erosion. it compounds a different level of emotion into it. moneen has always been a band that seems to simply roll around on their guitar pedals so there are way more effects going on in the little spaces between the verses and the periods after the musical sentences. and there’s the spacial post-rock moment that they place in the middle of the song that rolls you through a river of illusion and empty galactic space that is placed where the original song had its musical break.

hrvrd – timid scripts the first notes of this track always almost lift me inches off of the ground. I have a devotion to this record that is worn openly like an old hoodie or a pair of jeans that is completely threadbare. that weird guitar float away sound that happens right after the first vocals come in, the way the cymbals are recorded, just how much reverb is surrounding the singer… a lot of it. it’s all shaped like a halo to me. this is one of those songs that you’ve been asking for when you’ve gotten bored of every record you’ve bought, every recommendation and every song on the radio. this is the response to that silent telegraph. the missing brick to the foundation. the one that fits the new design, the new remodel. I talked about this record in sort of (read: extremely) over the top terms and this is the song that sort of encompasses all that the record makes me feel. it’s one of those songs that makes me feel like there’s no way that this song was written by human beings, that it was sort of a spiritual transmission that was received by a collective of people that united them at some temple or sudden canyon. really. I feel this way.

hrvrd – flaming creatures this is actually the first song from that record that called to me and made me realize that I was truly loving it, and that it had a voice that was speaking directly to me. a similar example is when you are trying to put together what a word or concept is with no prior recollection to it. like the native americans standing on the shores, unsure what they were seeing as the global explorers brought their massive ships to their banks. just not being able to mentally define or even outline these objects or ideas or in this case sounds. it took me a second to really grasp it. and it’s not that these guys are doing something that sounds like it’s in a completely different key or anything, it’s more that I had to really succumb to the idea that it was taking over as a brand new idea and that there was nothing really like it that I had liked. it’s in the nuance. the trumpet here, the high pitched vocal piece. it’s all captivating to me. the “loathing government” thing… wack. I get that. but the organ, the guitar lacing that goes over it… an anchor and a propulsion. I love it.

local natives – you & I the slow sweeping of the guitar and its amber hue is all that it would really take for me to be completely caged up by this song. but the hook is, on its own and in conjunction with this, terribly sad and sounds simple and pleading and yet is catchy and something I want to sing all day. somewhere in the three minute mark, there are notes that are filling up the whole landscape, like the type of blanket that fill your vision when you have your eyes closed but stare at a blinding light. little moments like that stacked with an already great song is what makes this stuff timeless and endless for me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now, some of these songs I get almost nervous to share with you because the song itself might only sound like a song to you, and what I want to do is have something like a séance where I hold your hands around a table and let you feel what I’m feeling and let these songs speak to you the way they speak to me.

into it. over it. – favor & fiction one of the most genuine and hardworking and believable dudes in all of music right now is evan weiss. hands down, such an approachable dude who just ‘gets it’, constantly. both in person and on television he has some kind of mission statement and work ethic that comes across in everything he does. and the talent he has on the guitar is something that makes him far more than just a figure head. he can deliver. the main riff on this track is something that can really speak for his entire discography. lots of angling and bending and fingerwork going up and down the neck of the guitar. and then another one of this incredible abilities as a songwriter and music player is the weight and heaviness of the songs that he’ll lay down without doing much of the palm muting and typical breakdown stylings that tend to come with songs that can be described as “heavy”. it’s the timing and the space that he places around the notes and in between the movements of the song that he’s tying together. take the part around 1:42 as an example, and on record you can possibly get the view as it would look on paper, but in his live performance the way that the notes ring out and the investment and reaction and delivery on his face makes it fathoms and tons heavier.

poliça – very cruel bass heavy and rhythm happy and head nodding. the almost sassy and loungy vocals. just on that level, this song is great. on loop endlessly. lots of really basic stuff coming together, but layering and building and frothing and getting whipped out at different intervals. really smart use of echoes. in one of those rare moments, one string of lyrics really hits directly close to home with me. a way of life I’ve had to leave behind, one that I was almost ignorantly walking through days with.

thom yorke – harrowdown hill one thing that has always stood out to me about this song since I played it on headphones for the first time is during that bed of high pitched almost digital keys, it has this weird warbly sound to it in this very light fashion that makes it sound like it’s coming off of some heavily used record that has been tried at the owner’s very best to keep it in good condition, but it is played so frequently, it just can’t help but be exposed to natural entropy. something about anything this man touches makes sense. I feel like I can type the lyrics a million times in many different fonts and beg you to look at it harder but it just won’t speak the same to you or even myself the same way. I’m staring at it like DON’T YOU GET IT??! like some kind of son of sam investigator. it’s weird, yeah, it gets weird. to get even more close to it, start listening to around 2:24, in the left channel, that weird choppy mumble that he uses as part of the beat to break up the loop cycle that he’s using. it appears and disappears. it’s little genius that reveals the iceberg of larger genius. I think of this song as an acknowledgment of a certain group of people in my life who I’m constantly and forever melded with, and twisted into a helix that never bends, warps, erases, or is destroyed. 1.

phosphorescent – muchacho’s tune oh, and this is just a sad song with a lap steel and lyrics that I can relate to from a certain point in my life. a longing and a reaching that held out for hours and endless Indiana miles. lots of staring out through solid walls as if they were glass windows or open fields. and while I’m past that sadness, it still was very real to me. and it’s still something that left a ravine in my existence. it’s healthy now, it’s got foliage and wildlife in and around it. but it’s still there because of the passing and crashing of events. and I’ll be able to use THOSE MOMENTS as very real inspiration both the prehistory, the history and aftermath and recovery from it. we all have these experiences that become educations for us, that seem so crucial and defining for us. and I really hope that all of you can openly choose to not let these framed moments rule your lives. to acknowledge them, take power over them, accept them and change them and change yourself in ways that only move you forward.

volcano choir – comrade more sadness on this track. this song really stood out to me, along with another track on that record. the other one just wasn’t as digestible to throw on the mix cd, but had one of the saddest lines I’ve heard in my entire life, quoted by mr. chinaski himself. there’s something cruel cruel cruel about singing sad songs with an uplifting sound. it opens up the creases in your lungs and your heart and your voice box and makes you let these little flakes of light in. real bite the bullet moments. I think the key that this song is written in is just inherently positive. there’s one line to me in here that sort of acknowledges that level of true rejection we’ve ever felt, though, better than any other. and I need to separate it from the rest of this description just so it can hopefully get a hold of you the way it did for me. there are a lot in here that are NOT this next line that really tear at me. but this next one feels universal. it’s in the song but you can’t make it out because it’s autotuned and flying away in all directions. but it says:

YOU DON’T EVEN LIE TO ME NO MORE.

blonde redhead – spain STILL SAD! I want to plaster more lyrics, but that’s not really my style. this woman’s voice feels like a ghost to me. always has. this song is written about a personal struggle with trying to let someone go, despite your excuses and the small wants and desires and perfect scenarios you set up in your head. although all of your external voices are telling you to stay away, to stop to leave it to run. you can’t combat or defeat the missing of someone, the longing. the dialogue you want to have with someone when you are reunited, the next time that you see them, the way you think it was the one thing you could say to make them understand. the fact that you feel like you can’t speak enough to say the one thing so superbly and succinctly (and at that time, so effortlessly) to make them swoon and stay or come back or fall into you. the shape of one person’s voice or personality or handwriting to haunt you for the rest of your goddamn life.

palms – antarctic handshake this song is simply a meditation broken into two stanzas. the sound of the universe and its shapes and children. the way the sounds of the guitars form perfect undulating waves rippling outward. this song feels like the description of a place described only as beyond. it feels like floating and fractals. the first portion of the song feels to me almost more of a portal, a slow pushing tunnel towards what ends up being the open experience of the second piece. like falling off of an upward escalator into a place with no gravity, into a sonic representation of an alex grey movement. I’ve had times with this record where I’ve listened so far into the background of this track where I can almost detect some kind of Tibetan throat chanting going on back there, or something even deeper, even bassier. it’s like a strand of light dissected. twinkles and trenches. the percussion part is so tribal, so simple but subdued and constrained. omega.

02.07.14

avoiding a bonfire.

something.

I've been outlining a character to plug into the outline of a short story. lots of little things, notes and idiosyncrasies and things I'd like to include. taking "advantage" of the microcosm observational skills that I think I have. poking at the little things, expanding on the little things. feeling good about having a project to place thought into cumulatively. 

had a moment of terrifying, paralyzing analysis where I started seeing things in the character and the story that could be similar to a version of myself, felt like I was calling myself out on it. felt like a fraud, even a narcissist. wanted to throw the book into a house then burn the house down. 

I've not written at length for probably two years. maybe more. it's mostly been letters, short poems, and music analysis for the mixes and end of the year lists. I'm getting in my own way about something I love to do, something that comes really natural. and not even putting it out there for the paranoia of being called out on something. 

supremely weak. 

not listening to that voice.

Albums of the Year, 2013.

The Others

took a little bit, but…

night verses – lift your existence grew on me in a really incredible, massive way. when I first started listening to it, I’m probably like every other low interest, high artist count listener [especially from long island] that heard a few tracks from the record and thought, “oh cool, sounds like the sleeping, I’m down”, coasted through a few more songs then put it down without really giving the record the respect it deserved. I came back to this a few times and each time found something new and unique in it, and found that each song almost sounds like its own experiment and doug has his signature style throughout, but is almost trying something new at every chance he got. really incredible album, especially after knowing that these dudes are doing it for REAL when you see them live. each one of them are supreme instrumentalists. hate to point the one dude out, but hey, aric improta… killer. damn, son.

supremely weird, got something new every time…

shone – heat thing came out some time in February, I think. it was an album that had a lot of weird, mysterious hype about it involving brand new and robbers and a collective of musicians from other projects I’m not familiar with. either way, I knew Andrew had KILLED it with robbers and I was ready for more of the type of theatric, mod, twin peaks-style music and storytelling he had often offered up, so whoever surrounded him, I trusted would only add to the stew. it did. the tracks are all rad, all very terrifying in their own way. but the songs are orchestrated. they’re wide and vast. they’re the kinds of songs I can’t see performed in a bar but rather in a theater. great record.

wait, this is dope who what is this…

ether – human error apparently released an album this year. and when I was going back through all the records that I purchased or downloaded in 2013, it came on and blew me away. instantly caught my attention. it’s nothing new or revolutionary. in fact, telling you that it’s from at least one of the guys from remembering never will probably instantly give you a better idea of what this sounds like. the tracks are long and sludgy and it’s not as straight forward as the remembering never stuff, but it’s still heavy as shit. not much to say about it, but when it popped up as I was going through this year’s list, I was impressed. very happy I found them.

it’s good, but…

letlive. – the blackest beautiful came out and the hype and excitement I had for it was probably a little bit too high and unfair for what they were going to meet. at all, really. seeing them live gives me a very different image of their sound than what actually makes it onto their records and I often forget that. there’s still that weird ‘screamo’ vibe to them. they have the heavy and hard and smart stuff, but they do that pop punk hook thing, too. and this record does focus on a lot of that pop side while still remaining true to the dudes with tattoos who float around the hardcore scene aesthetic. each song is good, it’s fine, but didn’t blow me away. and something that stood directly out to me is the production quality and value of the songs. not exactly the same, but it almost felt like they did what metallica did with the album they recorded in a garage or something where they tried to strip everything down and make it sound shittier on purpose. I don’t know. cool album, and it grew on me, but I felt I had to be a little forgiving to it.

&

polica – shulamith was almost nothing like what their first album offered and that’s absolutely fine. for real. I’m not saying they needed to have a repeat performance. BUT. where the first record had a very cool, almost dub-inspired reggae tone to it. very chill, very two step, head nod friendly. this one came out and did a little of that, but not enough, and did new songs that left what seemed to be their apparent mission statement. their foray into upbeat stuff was great with ‘chain my name’ opening the record in a hyper, bumpy type of way. but they never came back in and found that unique center that made them stand all the way out for me.

too long…

into it. over it. – intersections I MEAN, c’mon. i don’t even know how long it actually was. it just started to all run together for me. a lot of it was great, and there were moments that would jump out at me and give me all of the feels, you know. but I found that every time I sat down to it or carried this album with me, I either forgot it was on or wanted to put something else on to break it all up. and it’s not even that the whole thing was too sad or anything or too much to deal with. it just sort of all mushed together. kind of how I feel when I’m walking through a museum or something and you’re staring at all of this art, this stuff that people come from HOWEVER far away for… and you’ve spent so much time around so much stuff that starts to look similar to It that it’s just getting lost so it looks like “Man”, “Woman”, “Woman with Fruit in Park at Dusk” and then just “Fruit” and then eventually just “Paint.”

started incredible but then lost me…

justin timberlake – the 20/20 experience (Part 1­) on this one, the same thing happened every time. turned it on and was blown away. this was the best thing this guy has ever done. did the direct JT pop thing with a cool song, but each track was interwoven with Timberland’s genius production to also make something completely bizarre and off the beaten path as well. to the point where through the first four tracks, I started wondering why he wasn’t credited as one of the headlining artists on this record. and then after a while, it, yeah, it just lost me. I forgot I was listening to an album and I just wanted to go back to the first few songs that got me really involved and inspired and excited about what I was getting down to.

this song just will not leave me and I don’t think I ever want it to…

paramore – still into you it’s supremely bubble gum and really fun and easy and has everything about a single that can captivate the anonymous. I’m very into it. that chorus though? son. genius. simple. dassit.

The Top Ten (the playlist)

i kept a .txt file of all of the albums that I bought this year. whether it was physical or digital, whatever the case was, anything that I bought or anything that I listened to enough to get a listing got dropped in there and in a vague moment of trying to put together my list, I’d move it higher or lower based on just my gut instinct. and then in the last month or so of the year, I’ve been listening to everything on that list in alphabetical order just to get the last sweep through all of it and made an independent list based on how it was directly in the face of listening to all of it at once. and to be honest, the list is very close to what I expected it to be, but some stuff got completely rotated out in lieu of some stuff that really felt like it had more of a longer lasting feel to it. there was even one album that I realized sounded almost completely samey the entire time through and there were other ones that just fit what a great album needed to be.

but honestly, there’s no correct way to make a list like this. it’s whatever sounds good and it will change constantly from week to week and month to month and cup of coffee to cup of coffee. there’s no definition. all of these were great records and there are plenty more that could have made it throughout the year. but here it is. DAT LIST.

10. Local Natives – Hummingbird

this band is almost the epitome of modern American ‘indie’ music right now. it’s all that echo and all that fuzz. it sounds like they are the soundtrack for all of those modern car commercials with the quirky dads and their funny girlfriends and all-too-intelligent kids. but really, these songs are truly, truly beautiful. I think there’s something about the hooks here that are unforgettable. I remember pulling this album out and being shocked that song after song was holding my attention and it wasn’t just floating out into the nothing of run-together bands that have this very same sound and the very same tone of instagram photos faded but cool and new and autumny.  very pretty album.

Important Tracks: You & I, Heavy Feet, Ceilings.

9. Chvrches – The Bones of What You Believe

just the way this album opens up totally gave me such a great, full smiling vibe. it’s almost like Purity Ring’s little sister is getting out of school on the last day before summer vacation begins. where PR was completely devastating and gave me an introspective into a feminine side that I found hidden behind a layer of day-to-day existence as a Male, this record is girlie and fun but still synthy and almost steely enough to give that “aww, you’re angry and angsty, huh??” I love the synth palette they use here. they remind me of some of the great moments Metric and Paramore and even some of the stuff that’s going on in the background I can throw Crystal Castles into the mix. there’s a lot of sparkle to be found. it all just feels good. I like that so much of this is very easy and simple, too.

Important Tracks: The Mother We Share, Lies, Recover.

8. Portugal. the Man – Evil Friends

i never thought that this album would make it here. my relationship with this band has been nothing short of tumultuous. in 06, 07? this band was all I could talk about in terms of what they were capable of as a unit. they were doing things that I couldn’t be told about, things that I thought bands had never tried before. they were new to me, fresh to me, and had absolutely no qualms being weird and using sounds and echoes and pulling ideas from a whole new sphere of thought that I hadn’t yet ventured into. they came around at a perfect time, as I was slowly losing interest in bands that screamed at me and played breakdowns and played tiny venues. but everything after they dropped Church Mouth seemed less intricately put together, seemed less like an endeavor and more like a… regular album? I don’t know how to really explain what they were doing. the thoughts on these records felt incomplete. just written and recorded and packaged and sent. and I felt that even after watching them perform multiple times, it seemed that they were constantly performing their songs in the key and size and scale and LANGUAGE of Church Mouth, but when they hit the studio, they felt myopic and limited. and when I picked this record up, I sort of had my teeth clenched expecting another similar experience. HOWEVER. this record has a whole new feel to it. finally sounds like they have put together the neo-Portugal sound that they’ve been crafting over the course of the years. and the way I described it when I picked it up was that this was an emphatic apology and thank you for sticking with them while they were figuring it all out. great songs, recurring themes, and one that finally matches their new voice of their new live show. it feels like they’re finally comfortable in the skin they’re wearing. front to back, great.

Important Tracks: Creep In a T-Shirt, Modern Jesus, Purple Yellow Red and Blue.

7. Volcano Choir – Repave

I got duped by this record, kind of. first song I heard from it, I instantly perked up and was saying “yo. this is the new Bon Iver.” ACTUALLY DAWG, it is Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon along with some other homies. stoopit. but this is just a collection of sad sounding songs. whispy and light and at times even cosmic. organic. the lyrics sound incredibly personal and specific at times and have hit chords within me that song lyrics rarely will. some of the words call to mind very detailed rooms or interactions that went muted and wrong. the production is smart and layers some very hidden moments within the song structures that only work to highlight the mentality of the tracks. I feel like this album can feel like being lost in the mind and heart of a slighted lover. this album found me at the right place at the right angle. it also has some terribly sad moments without ever getting blatantly dark. things left unsaid. the shape of her face. I love some of the moments this record shares with you. makes me want to call my friends and make sure they’re okay or something. there’s a moment where they sample Bukowski himself that cripples me.

Important Tracks: Comrade, Alaskans, Keel.

6. Phosphorescent – Muchacho

there’s a weird line here. I don’t want to talk about the sense of being ‘forlorn ‘ in this record, because it’s almost the perfect word to describe it, though I don’t it ever gets to the point where you feel bad for it or understand that it’s having a hard time. does that make sense? it almost sounds like someone who’s moved away from someone or something or somewhere they really loved but talk about it in hindsight as someone who’s just as delighted to be bringing them up as they are a bit shook up about having to leave it behind. this personification is about the best I can explain how this record gets to me. the songs have a strange, haunted feeling to them, almost like stories around a campfire with a close group of friends who are learning about just what happened over the past forever. sounds tend to bounce around in here. the acoustics on all of it is perfectly designed. I love the country elements to the instruments and the little yips and yelps that seem like they had to be ad libbed. if they’re planned, there’s something almost corny and absurd about it, but if not, I mean, I guess there’s something genuine about it that I completely love. this is a back porch record, something to either avoid listening to or embrace while you’re tapping into your spirits. it’ll get you. the whole thing swells until you appreciate the cage that love has crafted.

Important Tracks: A Charm / A Blade, Muchacho’s Tune, Down to Go.

5. Atoms for Peace – Amok

I mean. it’s thom yorke. this is layered and smart and tight and all kinds of warm and digital. the production is pitch perfect, down to the last sound and the last fade out. you don’t miss a note of a fade. there’s a cyclic pattern to the drum and the bass and the background elements that keep me entranced. but there’s still parts of this record that would lend itself to a stripped down or acoustic rerecording. no element of this record can’t stand on its own. it’s almost an understated power house that is wall to wall. its appearance on this list feels like an ‘of course’. this record is a meditation.

Important Tracks: Default, Ingenue, Judge Jury and Executioner.

4. The Strokes – Comedown Machine

seeing this band on any list of mine kind of blows my mind. but the first thing I can tell you is the same thing that I can say to the few people I started to pass it around to once it dropped. “I KNOW. trust me. it’s really good.” it’s kind of exactly that basic and just that simple. the guitars float around in the background and they have that Cool Guy vibe to them. the vocals stay falsetto and in that higher register that finds its way directly into my zone. every single moment of this record just feels incredibly catchy to me in a way that I would hate to admit. like. really?? the fucking strokes? I’m almost as mad about this as you think I am. i almost feel like I’ve been had, listening to this direct NYC Rock and Roll record with five good looking dudes in it and enjoying every single minute of it. I mean. really. they nailed it. even in a song that starts off like some kind of weird, cheapy video game introduction, they pull it all back together and tie it in a perfect little bow into a believable, backable chorus. why. how. I do not know. but I ended up loving this album until I questioned it and it responded in a very deliberate fashion, keeping it on this list.  I swear, though. enjoying this album kind of feels the way you feel when you actually genuinely understand your ex’s new partner. but it’s so good!

Important Tracks: Tap Out, One Way Trigger, Call It Fate Call It Karma.

3. Palms – Palms

chino, man. I could leave it at that. but my man is in a good amount of projects that he starts or becomes attached to. and his repertoire is so vast that whatever he becomes a part of, I kind of look off into the middle distance and say, “I can totally see it. I get it.” anything. he can do anything. and I think his level of quality control and creative input ends up taking most of his projects into what many call “that next level shit.” put him on board with guys from the dark-ish post rock band Isis, and you have what makes Palms so moody. there’s something really spaced out and droney and zen about what they’re putting together. even chino’s vocal input to it has kind of a loop to it that doesn’t take too much of the spotlight from the music and lends itself to the background, post vibe to it. there’s a lot of good energy on this record, a lot of stuff that can help you get grounded and centered. listening to this in the background is kind of where it finds its most approachable intake, but if you throw this on your headphones or your earbuds and allow its detail oriented nature to seep into your brain and behind your eyes, it’ll definitely play some brand new tricks for you. this one’s a journey into the ether. this is music to disappear into. I think I’ve listened to the last track on this record and woken up on different levels of the species. it hums a life into an inner god.

Important Tracks: Mission Sunset, Antarctic Handshake.

2. Citizen – Youth

I had a hard time finding music from directly within my wheel house that really entertained me to this capacity this year. and when this album sort of rotated its way into my lap, I thought that it’d be a cool band to mention in the conversation of what I discovered this year. but the less attention I paid to new music, the more I found myself unable to leave this band behind. even when I’d listen to the releases from last year like Title Fight and even when I was excited for this year’s Balance and Composure, this seemed to be the record that I’d throw on each and every time. I believe this record. even though my girlfriend decided to compare this to bands like A Perfect Circle and Daughtry and Nickelback, I still think that this band is doing something that sounds legitimate and not formulaic and they have their hooks in all of the right places. even though she said that this being in the #2 position declares that this “really MUST have been a shitty year in music”, I still am entirely engulfed in this. I think what this album does is take all of that missing stuff from all of the records I’ve been looking for during the year, all of those dudes in vans, all of those Thank Yous in the liner notes, all the hangs with the close friends, all of those moments and puts it perfectly into one record that is usually spread out across multiple albums in different elements and different ways and puts it all into one accessible format. this sounds to me like cheapish guitars and ugly drums and tiny venues. even if my girlfriend can’t decipher between these guys and Three Days Grace. I ‘ono. this gets me hype.

Important Tracks: Roam the Room, The Summer, The Night I Drove Alone, Drawn Out.

1. HRVRD – From the Bird’s Cage

I’m a little scared to write about this album, because I know I’m going to mess it up. this record is a work of art. it’s perfect. um. in years from now, I’ll describe it to you the way I can still talk about Hopesfall’s ‘Satellite Years’ for over an hour. the way that it’s not a recording of a group of men playing instruments and taking notes on a white board, but instead the construction and manifestation of a collective dream where space is infinite and you build your wildest creations by dragging your ideas directly out of your brain and meld them together in an interface much like the minority report. um. when I listen to this record, I feel a hot and numb burning in the center of my chest that I can only compare to tony stark’s iron man heart. um. I can’t listen to this album without enacting some new and genuine twitches which you can be seen in closest similarity in the Radiohead video for Lotus Flower. yeah, it’s like that. I can’t really describe this album in anything other than metaphor that either has you get it or hate it. “BRO, I DIDN’T GET NO NUCLEUH REACTUH IN MAH HAHHHHT.” yeah, you’re right. this record elevates me to a different place, to a level of understanding the message that the band was assembling in little pieces without having to listen to it individually, but rather comprehending as one massive character and one singular notion. and if not with this record, I hope that any of your favorite records make you feel this. because that’s what this has offered me and what I’ve accepted. this is this. and this is now in me. thank you, HRVRD.

Important Tracks: Timid Scripts, Futurist, Flaming Creatures, Kids With Fake Guns.

cradled, jeans, flannel, beard, toxins.

i never realized how much i am like my father
until i saw myself in a caretaker/older male figure
in someone ELSE's life.

so it goes.

the road to south carolina.

THE PLAYLIST: road to sc

this is a mix, sort of. on the drive from new York to Charleston I put my Zune on shuffle and let it play whatever songs I had on there in the order it chose. randomly. it was fine. seeing as it’s only 30gb, most of the stuff I put on there is deliberate. not too much random stuff that I’ll want to skip through. and the drive took about 16 hours. I’m surprised that I only listened to about 178 songs, or something along those lines. these 25 are songs that I wrote down in my moleskine as particular tracks that seemed to match the mood of that particular moment. thought the way that they’re playing here are not set up in the order that they played in the playlist. no, this is more of an audible chart of how my brain started to fall apart on the trip down.

I left at an absurd time, something like 6 or 7 in the morning. before anyone had woken up. and at this stage, all I’m thinking of is the distance. the amount of time I’ll be in the car is sort of hanging in the background, but nothing about what life often passes within that time period. meals, interactions, walking, standing, muscle utilization. even little things that your eyes do that prevent them from droning off into a horizon.

and that’s what the first portion of these songs represent. (at the drive-in – ticklish) excitement and a positive attitude. strapping into a cockpit. this song was actually the first one that came on after about 7 of them that felt like it really propelled me into an excited state of mind. a setting off into a new life. and the sun is coming up and there isn’t much traffic and everything is completely fresh. this is just a drive and it’s going to be far away. (mae – runaway) finally hitting a straight pitch of freeway and not having to even change any lanes to go around any cars going too slow. just mellowing behind some guy doing 70. it’s not cold and it’s not hot. and I have my window barely down and I’m cruising. this is while I’m leaving long island, you know (hot rod circuit – knees) and I’m feeling my hands beat on the steering wheel in some kind of rhythm that is SORT of what the drums in the song are doing.

(Manchester orchestra – virgin) and then it starts to get a little dicey somewhere when you start to hit the boroughs, and the bridges. it gets a little more abrasive. I go into my head a little bit. I’m hitting some stand still traffic. using my head more, a lot more concentration going on, a lot less of that whimsy. (as cities burn – this is it, this is it) getting a little aggressive. merging when you have to, not letting people merge when they shouldn’t be, or rather when they should have when they had that chance. when you saw them choose not to. that competition of driving, that sort of lesson teaching that you try to do by your gates of allowing people in and not allowing people in, patiently waiting for them to say the right thing with their blinker or with their usage or lack of braking. especially when things are so incredibly dense as people are leaving the NY metro area, hitting those bridges, hitting those tunnels. (dredg – the tanbark is hot lava) choppy, terrible post-construction. destruction. and I start getting stressed a little about my car being a bit on the older side, though maintained. caring and then thinking about not caring and then ultimately not caring. still daytime, still a long way to go. still, absolutely positive. because despite “NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK THEY’RE DOING” [- everyone, to everyone] I’m leaving. and I’m on zero time table. this is my own time. and for me, that’s enough sometimes. if there’s nothing on the other side of anything that says I have to be anywhere by anytime, I’ll often feel MORE motivated, more proactive, more fluid, more alright with anything and anything else and everything else in the in between. (letlive – renegade ’86) 

and traffic lets up and things feel good and despite the fact that I’m alongside what feels like legions of cars going to the same exact place, they’re going the speed THAT I LIKE THEM TO and that I want them to. and we’re a rolling force moving ahead. getting to that jersey turnpike, everyone is going the same direction as fast as they possibly can. and with purpose. feeling good again, feeling like I can get my bearings again. can get the sun under me and in me and along me again. roaring with the music. banging my steering wheel to where I can almost feel the feedback from not only the soft plastic wheel, but the entire column gonging back at me, and the tires lipping back asphalt. passing over every number white line on the turnpike. and only changing lines to go around families in mini vans or people learning how to drive moving vans with their nerves on their fingers. (mindless self indulgence – wack) dancing in the driver’s seat. and then 295 south. something like 90 minutes of blasting in one direction. (kanye west – diamonds) pacing yourself becomes important in a way, sort of only taking on about an eighth of this trip, and getting out of the most populated area that you’re going to drive through, the most types of directions you’re going to change until you’re in the area where you’re going to have to learn new streets in a matter of minutes. where google maps tells you you have to turn on a new road that might not be named that road anymore in 1.3 miles that feels different in every city and every town and in every different landscape. trees going forever. highway laid so strategically and surrounded so permanently by forests. and I’ve always wanted to see some kind of nature in those tree beds, but it’s only ever evergreen backdrop.

(the strokes – happy ending) looking back in my backseat, almost everything aside from every SINGLE piece of media is coming with me. clothing. video game consoles. bunch of books, bunch of games, all the blu rays. uploading into a new state, a new city, a new configuration. these are going to be hanging in different closets. stored on different shelves. watched alongside a new set of eyes, with a new voice to echo reactions off of. and the sun is up up there somewhere and it’s still September. warm. we’ll have a chance to see the new place as it’s alive. not just someplace that we’re living, but someplace that it’s blooming. driving 80. sometimes 90, but then I get nervous a little bit about the car falling to pieces right there under me and I’m left scooting around on some kind of go kart or maybe a wheel flies off of an axel and I’m sent rolling into an embankment or a ditch. (days away – knows my name) people saying “did you see that, what happened?” and I’m just someone that fucked up on the side of the round in a burning mound and then sirens become more of the story than the guy who was going 80 or sometimes 90 but only by mistake. not really mistake. but you know, rolling ahead, and just foot on the gas and feeling good. feeling fine. just going fast. and looking at the clock being the absolute worst thing you can do, because the only thing you can feel is that you’re making good time, because you’ve been doing it for so long and you’re far away from where you originated. (ghosts and vodka – bizarre funeral) and you’ve been going so fast with no stops at all. the way you wish you could drive to work with no lights and no traffic. driving to work SO FAST so that you’re NOT LATE and you ABLE TO DO WORK earlier than you would have if there was standard traffic. and you’re unfortunately feeling so surprised every time things go exactly the same way as they’ve always gone. driving out and open like this, really, everything is a surprise, but NOTHING is a surprise because there’s no expectation. on such a long stretch, it’s all new, and so often. every time I’ve taken on this stretch of the turnpike and then 295 and then 95, I have a bit of nostalgia. I drove to Richmond a bunch of times in that red ford probe. and then that jetta. and drove to DC in a Nissan filled with people. and it always feels very open and sort of similar and I always feel like I want to see the Baltimore ravens’ football stadium.

(silversun pickups – well thought out twinkles) going 80 and sometimes 90 by mistake. in the car for hours on your own. literally could go anywhere at this rate. always thinking about how easy it would be to do this in a brand new car that never needed any bit of maintenance, that has never given an issue and that is far from its first hiccup. always some weird guessing game. but still out there in the open and exploring. remember that driving around was a thing when I was 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24. but there weren’t these bridges and these wide wide wide open national straight aways, but there were beaches and towns and a lot of street lights and almost no chance of getting lost. super nostalgic feelings of being out on the road. of looking over at someone and laughing at something. but moving ahead towards a new collective. (radiohead – stop whispering) making a huge change and taking a huge chance. no matter how sure it feels, it’s still a major risk. diving off of the high dive into a safe, deep pool. still a bit of fear. not TERRIFIED. I’d love to see more people have something to completely go off onto an island for. just to give something completely unsure a chance. like driving or quitting or flying or telling or leaving or fighting. standing up. five hours, six hours alone on this trip and a lot of the drive is so fast and it feels so far and it feels so right and it feels so good but it feels like your favorite episode of your favorite show on forever without commercial breaks. (saves the day – you vandal) but the directions say 12 hours, so we’re halfway there but the clock said that, but the map says something else and the number of miles left doesn’t match the amount of time left and you start to want to feel comfortable in the sun and the car and the warmth and the earth but it’s getting a little crazy. (everyone everywhere – blown up grown up) and could it be that maybe I didn’t follow the directions properly? no, absolutely not. getting on i-95 and that’s the same stretch I’m going to be on for 400 miles, or 450 miles or 464 miles or four hundred and sixty four miles, there’s no way I’m going to get lost. not going to do a damn thing but drive. just drive on this forever.

(blonde redhead – maddening cloud) until it starts to get a little dusky. and I’ve stopped at a couple of rest stops, and it’s been gorgeous, just sitting on the side of the road in the sun in Virginia and taking pictures of the trees there and the sky there and the Americans there. calling friends. texting people to catch up, the people you just saw yesterday or before yesterday who you won’t see for months. acting like, oh, yeah, it’s not a big deal, I’m just out. the rationalization being, for me, you went from the womb until we met without meeting me and you’ve been fine, so why wouldn’t you be fine after you’ve met me and now you’re living the same way? sort of the type of thinking that I’d adopted while driving my life alone and living with friends in friends’ houses and rented houses and rented apartments and being alone in each of them, but completely not. (l’altra – say wrong) really slowly drifting off on a floe and misunderstanding that I’m part of the society that I’m trying to study by disappearing into it and out of it and assuming nothing applies to me because I’m just a standardization and a generalization and a dramatization and a flick of binary. I’m just out.

but you hit that pull of i-95 and day groans into dusk. no matter how good you want that piece of light to become, you swallow it into a pit and you start to drift into this dark place. same activities, your foot weighing down on two different pedals, making little personalities based on the cars and how they’re driving, and what they’re saying on the license plates and stickers and the hats they’re wearing and the number of people in the car. the color of the car. whether or not something is hanging from the windshield. you’re competing with these people. taking it so personally when they’re passing you, or chasing them to pass them. interchanges, traffic patterns shifting. still tapping your fingers. still nodding your head. I’m making it down the coast. (American football – honestly?) trucks seem so much bigger. their lights seem brighter and indicative of something hidden. rolling forward. and I get down i-95 and I get out of Virginia and I’m in north Carolina. there are only two Carolinas and I’m into one, so I’m in one half of the Carolinas so I’m BASICALLY already there. so around 1:50 of this song, this American football song called honestly?, this is where it all starts to feel exactly this way. when you say “it’s only this far away.” or when you give in to the concept of almost. it’s this. it’s the monotony. and it speaks to you by repeating itself. and you seek a meaning in the repetition of it. or you try to limit what it means by reducing it to the lowest common denominator. because there are so many of the same things happening, that you feel it can be folded in on itself like a blanket and skip the iterations because it’s the same thing and it’s going to get shorter. this is the equivalent of the concept of JUST. why don’t you JUST. it’s JUST three hours. eyes go crossed. I’m starting to lose it here, in the dark, with these massive trucks, but I’m in north Carolina. and there’s all this time behind me and all this distance and I’m so far, and I’ll be back and I’m JUST out and I’m going to be somewhere new soon and day was just here and the same thing is happening and I’ll skip it by JUST continuing to do it for the same amount of time.

(brother sun, sister moon – ghosts of barry mill) night becomes a startling calm when you get the truth of it. thinking over it and over it is not reducing it but rather empowering it. and there’s a new boost in the cycle. something feels motherly and wombly. dead sleep but with the senses on. eyes as heavy as crushing undercurrent. (trent reznor and atticus ross – the same as the others) everything is ticking and everything is waves. there’s a digital watch alarm in the background, packed away somewhere and calling to you the same way it’s putting you to sleep. wheels coming out distinctly, like pristine woodwork against the headlights in the darkness. the tread standing still. the trees cascading into the horizon that you only pick up when you pass by a city or an habitat that’s way beyond the distance, way beyond the places you’ll ever be. holding down the gas and wishing it was an escape pod, just pulsing you forth. the pep talk becomes based upon simply staying awake. making deals with an inertiatic devil, begging for the willpower to push on, begging your body to do the idle work while your brain could just navigate the breathing, the pulse, the blood pumping. (trent reznor and atticus ross – please take your hand away) cars passing you and wondering how they’re doing it still. hoping they’re understanding. eyes on the clock every ten minutes becomes every seven minutes. the time you’re expecting to arrive there just a mistake, just some lie you told yourself. not even motivation anymore, just an impossibility. want it dead. the rotating cylinder of sound on the inside of some bigger cylinder packed quietly away behind some sound muting chamber still holding you tightly and swinging you in large, wide circles. heavy and spherical weight. the body even further from doing the work for you, the mind even further from staying focused. too distracted to think of distractions. sensory deprivation. reading braille for the first time. hands starting to feel like a constant vibration, the wheel shaking because the column is shaking because the tires are reflecting the speed and the asphalt. you are promised you are going to die by going over the side of some device. going careening into a ditch. trucks weaving to miss something and putting you into a chaos. a deer becoming a missile. and then there are only two lanes. and you’re in south Carolina. and there are two lanes. and there are trucks going faster than thought.

(health – severin) I can’t tell what’s going on anymore, but we’re going very fast and I’m not at all comfortable with it. like when the shoulder pads go down and there’s that moment where you feel the slight tug of some under wire on a roller coaster. it’s coming and you have no control. but there’s the body and there’s the brain and there’s all the crossed signals that are yelling at you like the poor from the sides of roads in third world countries. haywire. haywire. you can’t mess this up because you’re almost there and it’s dark and they’re calling on you and everything is going so fast and NOW’s the time they’re keeping you in a traffic grid again and NOW’s the time that you have to be a uniform distance from the other machines and maintain a uniform speed so you don’t disrupt the manifestation of a traffic parade that’s converged from every corner. and paranoia starts to become a new mode on top of the exhaustion because I feel like I’m the only one who’s never been here before and these are all of the envoys from every other place there could be and these are the ambassadors that are showing me that I’m doing it wrong on this particular road.(palms – Patagonia) and I want out. there is no ocean anywhere near here yet, there is no place that makes sense of what I’m seeing. but I feel surrounded by water. the road is dark and the periphery is dark and everything except what’s directly in front of me is black and almost reflective of all of the darkness reflecting itself. there is no moon, only headlights behind me and brake lights in front of me. I pull off into a rest stop because I’ve had enough and I need to have a moment of give up. a second to know it’s over. and I put my head to a pillow and I can’t stop from twitching. all of the reactions that have built up but have been subdued are glitching my muscles now that they’re not suspending a fatality. where I thought my eyes closing would bring sleep right away, I notice that there’s way too much adrenaline or spirit or inertia or life inside my veins to make that a possibility. it’s having the shortest REM cycles and the briefest dreams and haunts gasping and running across the stage. I feel cursed. I feel like an actor who’s trying to act like they’re having a nightmare on a television show. I feel torn into specific threads of muscle and separated into harp strings. sleep never comes. but I feel unwound, I feel without tension and without ripples in an ever reaching pool. I regain a sense of calm. I realign with my vehicle, with the land, with myself. (sigur ros – eg anda) there’s no panic anymore. there’s no fear.

and I turn on the headlights again and turn the car on again and there’s a stretch of grass ahead of me that I can still picture, and I reverse out of the parking spot, and switch into drive for the final pull. i-26. forever however long. the traffic pocket has collapsed. it’s just myself. and I eventually catch up with what seems like a news van. and it’s driving 65 and I’m driving 65. and I’m not passing it. I truly submit to getting there tomorrow or a week from tomorrow or in a month. and I turn my phone off because they’re calling and getting my timeline to shake the earth beneath me. and I’m behind this van that feels like it’s the only thing on the road besides and despite myself. and I can’t even tell if it’s real, because its consistency is jarring but feels like salvation. there are no cars behind us, not as far as I can tell, just an endless cipher. lightless static. twenty miles before I’m there, and the van pulls off. and I know my next exit. (earth – hung from the moon) and there’s a countdown now. I cross a bridge, I cross actual water, and I can see the deep orange of lights reflecting off of it and I can smell the biology of the ocean of it and how salty it is, like the garbage has floated to the top and it smells deep and alive and I feel like I’m escaping the whale. there’s a long bend left and the long bend right and then the exit surfaces. I get off of the highway that’s lasted since the birth of hell, and pull off into what seems like stock footage from the surrounding areas of the towers on The Wire. but it looks human and inhabited, even at midnight, even this late, even though there is no one outside. there’s a gas station that looks gutted and rusted and dried up that I park in and call and try to get my way to the final place I’ll park for the night. I have to cross train tracks and follow the road right and make a sudden right into a parking lot and then I have to stop my car and meet the people that have been waiting for me for what has felt like my entire life.

and none of this was significant. it was a drive on a road. but it was solitude and it was hollow. it was muscle absolution and obedience. for days, my hands felt rapid vibrations, almost pins and needle numbness. I felt like a landed satellite. 785 miles of tunnel or space or prayer or function. and I’d made it. 

ssRA_GE-RS.

twins switch at birth, each with the scheduled and
constant certainty of cicadas. both marked equally
with a tragic sign, destined for a persistent loss and
old age. constantly surrounded by love, devotion and
worship despite their crass nature and starvation for
solitude. visiting the home of the priest to witness
miracles. eavesdropping on exorcisms to feel a real
dedication. poring over end of the world verses.
impatience and brooding during signs of the cross.
ONE ever interested in the PLAGUES to match
HIS BROTHER'S passion for the FLOOD.
coaxing a dying horse to release triplets from its womb.
reading old letters to a locked and caged wolf.
blinding and maiming it for its duration.
between them,
they never knew a woman,
never engulfed
a female within a night of
feverish submission.

sincerity projected.

breaks and travels to a nameless end. the wise and gone released.

remembers most the separation of her philtral columns 

and then the rest fills in around it like sand against banks.

all he's known of her seems shaped by slow and rolling waters.

it's her name he's holding onto, whether she's existed or not.

she is a banner, she is a walled city. folded pages in books.

from plains of onyx to obsidian, he walks his horse and its flayed ribs maplessly.

loved her almost to death once. he can't release his ghost from her crypts.

mammoth and catacombed, his heart drones out a sinking pulse,

numeric and sentient.

motion in the sclera.

and if anything is dead we'll stuff it with pigs and plastic bags,

leave it all in fields we'll avoid in our beat up station wagons covered in rust.

we'll burn all the stalks that sssstick up, surround the plantations with heads on stakes.

the doors will be barred with no locks, no iron, no trap, no warning.

for a day or a week we'll hole up in temporary tribes and sleep in the same dirt

with our eyes on each other or our eyes on the endless ahead. 

singing birds will zazz over the hum and purr of insects that whip and chase.

a whole nation gone goddamn inside out and ribs up. 

you leave a trace of obstacles and distractions.

you leave an example and you leave a threat.

you save every song you've ever heard for no one.

morning, wood floor.

good christ, there was a vision. 

endless and impactful.

looping on itself, hungrily.

vomit and feces.

devouring and starving. 

AIDS, engulfing.

stringing code together.

it was always there in length and width.

good christ, you've seen it in slivers.

tiled, gilded.

recurring dream right before actual sleep:

being shoved into subway tracks and being dragged forward by the train and sparks everywhere for so long i get bored of them. when the train stops i'm caught between two cars, being fed alcohol by coworkers in bottles of peroxide. time ticking down before they move the cars and everyone thinks I'll live but i know I won't.

can't make you work.

THEY PIECED TOGETHER OUR LANGUAGE

BASED SOLELY ON OUR LETTERS. AND TH

ERE WERE NO EASIER PARTS TO ASSEMBLE

THAN OUR NAMES. DANGLING MONSTERS

WITH ENORMOUS HEADS AND SLASHES. C

RYING FOR ATTENTION AND DEFINITION. 

GIVING ITSELF FAME OVER SENTENCE STR

UCTURE. CITIES WERE CELEBRITIES AS PRO

DUCTS AND PROGRAMS AND MOVIE TITLES.

STREET SIGNS WERE CODES IN ANONYMITY.

DIALOGUES SLOWLY CAME.

DO IT ALL.

would it make my father proud or not?
fuck him.
(XXXX-20XX)
[everything]



drove home drunk. and he hit her and it's her fault or it's not. she ran fast enough and at the wrong time or at the right time i drove at the right time or at the wrong speed at she's not even an issue anymore than before so i'll be okay and you'll be okay and he'll be not okay and i'll be okay. it's parentheticals or chance or possibility or chance or fraction or not.

i ran.

i was trying to listen to the proper type of music and all i was doing was putting on a new cd and all he was doing was maybe not, because i know him better than that. but not better than him because obviously, he'd try to come up with something else to say but what he would say would be something completely different and i'd support him no matter what, so his story might either be lies or:

XXXXX,

XX,
X XXX XXXXXX XXX X XXX XXX XXX X XXXX'T XXX XXX XXX X XXXXXXX XX XXX XX XXXXXX XXX X XXXX'X XXXXXX.
X'X XXXXX XXXEVER.

that's okay because i was driving drunk and all i was doing was driving and trying to listen to music and i was drunk but i drove careful.